America Septentrionalis: A Vaticinatio
by Black Squirrel Productions
Summary: My first story, reposted. Man, this is old. Not a completly worthless story (or else I wouldn't put it up) but it's close to stereotypes. Anyway, prophecys unfold before Harry's fifth year, and for once he isn't the only one getting in trouble.
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. The content within this story does not reflect upon J.K. Rowling or anyone officially with Harry Potter. This story is mine, along with anything you don't recognize. (Basically.) Do not borrow from or archive this story without my permission.

**Feedback**: I love it, and all will be read and appreciated. Including criticism, since I know I can improve. Flame if you wish, but if you're going to then show a bit of spine and don't do it anonymously. I might wanna return the favor. ;)

**Author Notes (January 12, 2005):** I'm reposting all my stories from all my accounts here, as soon as I re-read and correct anything I find. I still probably won't catch all of it, and the formatting is giving me hell, so if you catch mistakes or see something you think I should work on please tell me, and I'll turn some attention on it. Oh, and this is my first ever story in any genre, everything. So, don't expect too much, mmkay?

**America Septentrionalis: A Vaticinatio**

_Jess Scefing_

A dark room, with the outlines of three people sitting behind a table. In the center of the room is a chair with a girl aroundfourteen sitting on it. A bright light is above the chair, reflecting slightly off the highly polished white linoleum tiles . The person on the far right of the table, a man, takes a drink and continues talking.

"What did you see? Will you tell us?"

"Were your parents dead when you got home?"

"If not, had you spoken with them yet? Seen them before the incident took place?"

"Did you hear anything?"

"Did you see anyone leave the house? Was anyone expected to be over at that time?"

"If you don't say anything, how do you expect us to catch the monster who did this? That is what they are. You saw the bodies, I know you did. Your parents were tortured. Help us. We can catch them, but we will have to have your cooperation. We want to help."

Different approach...

"This doesn't look good for you."

Silence, but her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed slightly. Not much, but her interrogator was an expert at reading expressions, and knew how to use it to his advantage. The person next to him, a woman, caught it also and there was the scratch of pen on parchment as she made a note. A tape recorder was also running, operated by the man on the far left, an investigator.

"No, it doesn't look good for you. Your parents were murdered. You were the only one at the scene when we arrived. You don't have a very strong alibi. For all we know, you might have apparated illegally to get home early, and murdered your parents. You might not have, but you refusing to help us looks very suspicious, you know. Especially since we are only trying to find your parents murders."

"… Check by the river. Not the big one on the back of the property, but the small creek right behind the house. It rained earlier in the day so any prior footprints should be erased. Mine are there, I know that much. The shoes I'm wearing now are the ones I wore then if you need to match any of them." The man with the tape recorder sighed. They had already found the footprints. The girl's, two others, and the prints of about five of his men. He had ripped them a new one for it, and planned to continue when he got out of here.

The questioner spoke again: "Thank you. Is there anything else you feel you should tell us? We already asked about your reaction. You didn't tell us anything. We will be able to find out more if you tell us what you did." The familiar pause that said she wasn't going to answer. He started to another question but was stopped.

"I came in the back door. Er, the one that comes in from the garage, not the basement. I saw my parent's bodies. I flooed the emergency fire here. I went into the bathroom, washed my face, then went outside to wait."

"For what?"

"For the tooth fairy." She dripped sarcasm.

"Did you touch the bodies? Any of the things around them?"

"No."

"We found your prints on things around the bodies an-"

"Because it's my living room! Of course you will find my finger prints on stuff!"

"- and on the bodies themselves." This was a lie, but he had made the most progress with accusations. If he got her upset she might blurt something out or say more than she meant to.

"That's hard to believe. You can tell they were killed with a spell. There shouldn't be any prints on either of them. Unless some more of your agents screwed up that evidence too."

That stung. He was already fuming about his men tromping through the mud. The psychologist made a few more notes. The interrogator almost laughed. Smart kid. Bold too, but that wasn't going to make her any easier to trap. Threat time.

"If you don't tell us what we need to know," he paused for half a second. That had sounded too Goodfellas. "We will sweat you. Do you know what that is? We-"

"Yes, I do. You will give me a truth serum."

"Right. And we will find out if you did it or not."

"Hmm. Good."

"Lets try again. Do you know anyone who would want to do this?"

"You told us what time you got home, which we can verify by truth serum, or even the portkey you say you took home. Did you see anything?"

"Get a permit for the use of Veritaserum." he spoke aloud to the room before focusing again on her. "If you turn around and walk straight you will find a door. Someone will be waiting to take you to where you will stay tonight. For obvious reasons you can't go home."

"Joy. Do I get a little mint on my pillow also?"After some quick fumbles for the doorknob in the dark, there was a flash of light as she opened it and left. It swung shut behind her, leaving only the white light in the center of the room shining on the empty chair. The investigator rose a moment later.

"I'll you leave you two the tape to review, not that there is much there. I'm off to go teach some people not to make an ass out of me by shoving my foot up theirs. They all but drove the ATV out of the garage and spun donuts in the tracks..." The remaining two watched him leave, shying away from the bright circle of light as he went.

"It's not often you let someone get away without answering your question. Are you perhaps actually showing a shred of compassion?"

"Perhaps. Can you just imagine the shock of coming home to find your parents laying dead in the living room floor?"

"Do you think they were dead when she got home?"

"No. Do you?"

"No. I think she saw or heard some of it. Maybe all of it. We'll know for sure when the autopsy comes back along with the portkey records." She paused. "She hasn't lied to us yet. Do you really think Veritaserum is necessary?"

"If she won't talk. And it was more of a threat to begin with. But I doubt we could even get the permit. Her being a minor, everyone still flinching when someone mentions "The Case", it would be hard to get. Besides, a small town double homicide will probably do nothing more than stink up the local press. It's too isolated."

"That's what I was thinking."

"What do you think about her not talking?"

"My first thought was she knew whoever did it, and losing two people already, she didn't want to lose more or make enemies by ratting. But I've gotten more the impression she isn't protecting them. Maybe herself, maybe her parents memory. Maybe she is afraid of saying something that leads us to the wrong person. I doubt the last one, but it is a possibility."

"So instead of leading us to the wrong person she leads us no where?"

"I don't really know yet. I'm sort of stuck. She knows what she is doing."

"That's for sure. Most kids trying to hide something will try to lead you on another path, to get you away from certain topics. She knows we don't have anything on her, and she can afford to keep quiet without becoming a suspect. Hmm. I suppose we could threaten her with obstruction of justice?"

"I don't like threats. And I don't think it would work on her. The Veritaserum one didn't anyway."

"I know."

"...It is unlikely, but... there is her uncle?"

"Her uncle? I thought the rest of her family was dead? No next of kin."

"Only because her last relative was incarcerated."

"And the plot thickens... Fine. Who is her uncle?"

"I found it in her family records. Sirius Black is her uncle, and we know that after that huge blunder with the British Ministry he went to a warmer climate. The Midwest in late August is defiantly a warm climate."

"True. I feel I should mention this, though I don't know if it is worth anything."

"So say it. If you keep thinking about it it probably has some relevance."

"I was glancing through her school transcripts, and she is the current dueling champ at Salem in her year, and that her and the top kid in the year above her decided to have a contest and it was a good fight, but she totally reamed him in the end. Not in her school records, but I also read she has a background in martial arts. She might not have the ability to kill someone with a spell, but I'm sure if she saw someone attacking her parents she would at least try to stun them. You saw how cocky she is, and add to that she is basically in her element, I wouldn't think she would just stand there and watch."

"Unless there were more of them than the tracks we found, and she realized she was hopelessly outmatched. Her parents weren't weak, and she probably learned most of those hexes from them, truth be known. If they couldn't defend themselves, maybe she just realized she would have only gotten in the way. Or, most likely, she was scared. Do you know what's going to happen to her?"

"Not entirely. It is going to be Witness Protection for sure. I would bet you money on that."

"She won't be going back to Salem will she?"

"Can't."

"

Canada, New Zealand, Australia, or-"

"Britain. Hogwarts."

"Why?"

"Well, her mom was British."

"And what does that have to do with it? Her psycho uncle's last definite sighting was inside the school. Inside. He had managed to sneak in on several occasions, and even when they had him locked inside a room he snuck out."

"We have a feeling they may be after her." She snorted.

"Obviously. In not she wouldn't be in W.P."

"Her parents were old friends with the headmaster, Dumbledore. You've heard of him right?"

"Who hasn't?"

"They feel she will be safest there and Dumbledore said she could stay at the school."

"I'm sure she will enjoy that."

"Oh she will, as long as her batteries hold out. After that she will be ready to go live with NMs. They are positively medieval there. They deem "Muggles" as inferior and shun any of their inventions."

"Muggles?"

"Non-Magics."

"Not much for politically correctness are they?"

"Or electricity."

"Oh, she will just have the time of her life. Before she left her house she made an extra trip inside to grab her CD player. She will be in for some culture shock. When is she going to leave?"

"We will have her all day tomorrow."

"That definitely won't be enough time for a permit. And she would probably never take it of free will."

"That won't happen soon. You know, the kid wasn't crying at all when we arrived?

Just sitting with her back to a tree, looking as calm as can be. Oh gods, stop me, I'm rhyming."

"Yeah, a fourteen year old stoic. I'm sure she did cry though. Remember, she said she washed her face. And her eyes were a bit red when I got to her. She just didn't want everyone knowing she cried.

"I'm leaving. Review the tape if you want, and here are the notes I have with some of her background info too." She dropped them on the table and left, walking in a straight line to the door.

He waited until she left, went to the door himself and flipped out the single light in the room, leaving the tape and notes behind.


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. The content within this story does not reflect upon J.K. Rowling or anyone officially with Harry Potter. This story is mine, along with anything you don't recognize. (Basically.) Do not borrow from or archive this story without my permission.

**Feedback**: I love it, and all will be read and appreciated. Including criticism, since I know I can improve. Flame if you wish, but if you're going to show a bit of spine and don't do it anonymously. I might wanna return the favor. ;)

**Author Notes (January 12, 2005):** I'm reposting all my stories from all my accounts here, as soon as I re-read and correct anything I find. I still probably won't catch all of it, and the formatting is giving me hell, so if you catch mistakes or see something you think I should work on please tell me, and I'll turn some attention on it.

**America Septentrionalis: A Vaticinatio**

_Jess Scefing_

From the second she woke up, lying on the stiff cot, its support beam pressing uncomfortably into her back, she knew it was going to be a not so very pleasant day.

"No." she thought sourly. "Today is going to be a horrible day. If at all possible, even worse than yesterday." As she thought about the day before she felt the beginnings of tears start to well up in the corners of her eyes and rolled over, burying her face in the pillow.

"It feels like there is a pit in my stomach. A dull, aching abyss. That's what it is. Maybe if I ate something… I could puke."Rolling over she stumbled to where she remembered the light switch to be in the windowless room. Momentarily blinded, she blinked a bit and found the clock on the plain desk next to the cot.

"Hmph. No way in hell am I sleeping on that thing again." She complained aloud to the empty room as she checked the time. Five forty- seven a.m. Lucky for her it was digital, because otherwise she probably wouldn't have know if it was morning or night. Even so, it was way too early to be awake. Especially when there was nothing to do. But…

Grabbing her bag she had taken with from her home when she was warned she wouldn't be back that night she dug out her CD player, a copy of Box Car Racer already loaded. With a seconds hesitation she dug out her change of clothes and went to check the door.

"Figures." The door was locked. From the outside. "Well, at least I found something to do." A feral grin spread across her no longer tired features as she propped the desk's chair against the doorknob just long enough to ensure no intrusions while she changed. Packing away her CD player she went to inspect the lock.

A simple design. She couldn't tell for sure if there was a spell on the door, but she didn't think so, which would make her job all the easier.Opening the top drawer of the desk she found an assortment of items which wouldn't help her in the least. Quills, ink, even some ballpoint pens were scattered about. Rubber bands, a seal and some wax, Post-It Notes, and...

"Aha!" a pin-on name tag. She pulled it out but kept looking to see if there was anything else which might work better. "Eurgh." A half eaten Mars Bar quickly found its place in the waste paper basket with a clang. "A letter opener? Might be useful." she mused as she set it next to the name tag when: "Oh. Somebody loves me. Or at least underestimates me."

Dropping the pin and letter opener back into the drawer she pulled out a plastic I.D. card and quickly went over to kneel in front of the door. Pushing it into the crack between door and frame she slid it up and down until it hit the spot she needed. Pressing it until she heard the betraying click of the bolt she kept the card pressed tight against the lock until she had the door open.

She was about to toss the card on the desk when she saw it had a barcode on it.

"Don't know what its used for, but it just might come in handy. I'm not going to take my things though. After all, I'm not leaving. Just… exploring."

Leaving the door wide open to display the lack of her attendance she set off "exploring". First stop: wherever she could find a machine that sold coffee. Food might not sound appealing, but a Starbucks would prove the existence of a higher being.

By six thirty and she had found no signs from a caring deity, or even another human being. But she was sure she would see someone soon. People had to come to work sometime after all. But in the meantime she occupied herself by creating mild catastrophes wherever she had access. Which was most every room or hallway she came upon.

For the most part, the hallways were bland and dull, which she came to prefer to the alternative. The others had a touch of that pastel false cheeriness you find in hospitals. Why they ever had it in a Federal office building she would never know. The unassuming (and quite atrocious in her opinion) wallpaper, the mediocre prints showing the reproductions of flowers or wildlife scenes. Those she removed from their respected locations and replaced in a neighbors. Nothing large, but it would make the more observant workers wonder.

A few offices she entered she moved the chairs around, and one she rotated everything in the office so it seemed the entire room had been spun to face a different way. That owner would have a fair surprise. Others she would just rearrange a few items on the desk and in several of the rooms that had computers she switched it around so that the mouse would operate backwards, suited to a left handed person rather than a right.

She even switched a portrait (with its permission of course) with one of the bland non-magical one's from the hall.

Epiphany came when she found herself inside a janitor's closet. Inside was a selection of various cleaners and other supplies of the like. Dumping some disinfectant into an empty bucket she proceeded to switch all the liquids to a different container. Lastly, grabbing the polish and a mop she shinned up a five-foot stretch of floor in front of the door quite nicely.

She was in her current act of switching the nameplates on door when she heard the first signs of human life coming from the opposite end of the hall. She tossed the incriminating tags in an open doorway and made it around the corner of the hall before they could see her.

"Well, she might be in one of the offices sir."

'_I recognize that radio-voice. Mr. Questionnaire is back with a supervisor.'_ She thought almost happily. Until she realized that if they did look into any of the rooms they would find her source of amusement for the past few hours (it was now

7:53) and she would rather that wait until she was gone. She plastered a tired and slightly bored expression on her face and walked past the corridor they were currently occupying already coming up with an alibi.

"Ecgford!" Turning, she switched her carefully schooled expression into a face of faint surprise and mild relief. She almost lost it for a moment though when she recognized his companion. She had met Dumbledore once that she could remember, when she was around eight. _'Why is he here though?_' She had decided to act like she didn't recognize him since she had already missed the chance to show real surprise and it is one of the trickier expressions to duplicate.

"Thank the gods, I have probably been wandering around here for at least half an hour. I couldn't find my way back to my room." She half smiled and continued walking toward them, a bit quicker than usual since she didn't want them to pass the door with the placards littering the floor.

"And why exactly were you out of your room Ecgford? Better yet, how did you get out? We could tell you didn't use a spell." The agent said this in a rather rude tone of voice, though understandably since he had been searching for someone he shouldn't have had to in the first place. Not that it kept her from becoming rather snappish herself. After all, why shouldn't she? She had really every right to herself going by what had happened to her in the past two days, and she could act as tired and pissed off as anyone else. Besides, she was the one who had been "lost" all morning.

Pulling the card out of her pocket she bent it between her thumb and forefinger so it shot off at him. She noted Dumbledore looked amused.

"That is how I got out. As for why I left my cozy little cell, I had to use the restroom. Surely you can begrudge me the vice of being human?" Agent Ass-hole (as his new name was to her) glared as he bent to pick up the card. She glared back with more insolence than anger, and Dumbledore broke in with as much of a grin in his voice as his eyes.

"Erin, you might not remember me. My name is Albus Dumbledore."

She blinked twice as recognition supposedly dawned and she smiled. "Oh yeah, you're the principal from Hogwarts right?"

"Yes, I am. It is the now common belief that you are in danger. Therefore, you are going to be part of a program designed to protect witnesses."

"Witness protection?" she asked, not quite managing innocence.

"Ah, yes, that's it. You unfortunately won't be able to return to Salem Institute because of it. You will instead be attending Hogwarts for what will likely be the rest of your schooling."

The stone mask crumbled and she gaped like a fish

"Uh... What? I... I'm going to a different school? No, wait, not just a different school, I'm going to be in a different hemisphere! And why exactly can't I go to Salem anymore?" The agent spoke up, deciding he should answer because even though it was Dumbledore who had dropped the bomb, she was glaring at _him_.

"You can't go to Salem because it is too easy to look for you there." He said simply.

"Oh, terrific reason! And how will I be harder to find at Hogwarts? Gonna lock me up in a broom closet perchance?"

"If you think glaring at me will change anything (her face went from Glare to Death-Glare) then you are sadly mistaken. It wasn't even me who made the decision. Though if we even had some information to catch the people who are after you might not have to leave."

"And if you think bribing me will change anything then you are sorely mistaken." She turned to Dumbledore.

"There are probably a few differences in the school supply lists right? I will probably need to get those before term starts."

"Of course my dear. If you have no objections Mr. Riley, we will depart to her house to retrieve what she has already."

Riley was angry. That was obvious. He was supposed to have another day of questioning but since he doubted he would get anything out of her he consented with a nod and turned on his heel to go to his office. Though, that didn't bother Erin in the least. As they left she was solely concerned trying to remember something.

_Riley... Riley... John Riley! I remember now! That's the office I-_

But at that moment they port-keyed away and she was concerned with the more pressing matters of gathering the things she would be taking with her.

Rather unfortunate that they weren't there for about three minutes longer. She, and Dumbledore to no doubt, would have found the yell that echoed through the halls extremely funny. The portrait from the office across the hall did anyway.


End file.
